Friday Night
by Lucy H
Summary: Rachel's Friday nights are always the same. [oneshot]


Friday nights for Rachel are always the same. They've always been that way, and they'll always stay that way. Just like last Friday.

Okay, so it wasn't like every Friday. They'd blown off the rest of their friends so they could have a little "alone time". That hardly ever happened.

She got home a little earlier than normal. She paused for a little longer than strictly necessary as she saw both of their names on the name plate – something she often did, if no one was watching. It had been that way for nearly two years, but it still made her smile. It was proof that this was real. And sometimes she did need reminding. Just the other day, she'd woken up alone, and thought to herself that she'd at least been lucky to keep the dream for that long. And then she'd heard crockery rattling in the kitchen, and she'd gotten up, and she'd smiled, and they'd… well.

She hurried up the stairs, trying to calculate the time she'd spent staring at their names. She'd planned this evening down to the minute. She needed to get upstairs, set up the table – whoever thought that she'd be the one doing the romantic stuff? That had always been Ross' department, she'd been fairly sure that it was something the lady didn't need to do – shower, and then lie in wait. Literally.

Her phone went off as she opened the door, and she grinned the way she always did when she saw the text message. "i love you x". Ridiculous how she still melted at the tiniest of things.

Ridiculous too how hard it was to find the candles she'd hidden. She'd put them in a "safe" place so they weren't found. Candles, rose petals, she'd even bought fancy plates. Of course, she'd be serving pizza. But that was only because she didn't want to end the evening with food poisoning. She wanted to end it with the two of them, in bed, doing the things they'd never dreamed they'd actually do.

She found the candles at last, and celebrated with a triumphant cry – probably heard across the hall. Then again, they probably heard more than that at times. Neither of them was exactly quiet.

The table took a long time to look just right. Maybe she'd lived with Monica for too long, but she seriously considered getting out a ruler to check that the plates were level. No, that would be obsessive. She left it.

She passed by the bedroom on her way to the shower, taking the chance to scatter rose petals on the bed. Messy, but wasn't it supposed to look that way? Besides, the bed would get messed up pretty quickly.

For once, she didn't leave her clothes lying on the floor as she went to the shower – she wanted everything to be perfect for them tonight, and she didn't want to spend any of their precious time together tidying up. She wouldn't bother if they were any other clothes, but her work clothes… she needed her suits to look nice. She did work in fashion, after all, which meant that she needed to look hot. Twenty-four seven. Despite any jealousy it might cause.

Not that there would ever be any need for jealousy. She'd promised solemnly that she'd never look at another guy in that way. She'd found the one, and she wasn't planning on messing that up.

She hung her clothes up neatly, grabbed some towels, and headed for the shower. The shower. The first thing that they'd redone when they'd bought this apartment. Although she'd tried to insist that she just couldn't start her day without a good shower, they'd both known the real reason behind it. She – hell, both of them – liked the activities that they could get up to in there.

Mmm-hmmm, she did like the wet look. And, if the reaction she got when in there was anything to go by, the feeling was more than mutual.

There'd been some good times in there. Definitely. She remembered the first time that they'd ever ventured into there. It had taken quite a good deal of coaxing – whoever could've thought that she could feel so shy around someone she'd experienced that much with? But once she'd been dragged in there once… well, there was no going back.

The first few times they'd just showered, holding onto each other, kissing, telling each other how good they looked… but after that, they'd been brave enough to move on to other things.

It wasn't so good by herself, she thought ruefully. She rarely went in there alone now. Neither of them did. But tonight… she knew that she felt as tired as she looked, and the shower was one way of perking herself up. Besides, she wanted to look perfect for tonight. Sometimes making an effort was necessary.

She stepped into the shower and turned the water on, running her fingers through her newly-cut hair – that had been a shock to the rest of the gang, but how could she argue when told that she'd looked her best the year Monica and Chandler got engaged, with dramatically short hair?

She was in the process of washing the soap away when she heard the door click open. Dammit. She'd spent too long in the shower, as usual.

"That you, sweetie?" she called, wondering if she'd even be heard over the sound of running water. There was no answer, so she shrugged to herself, promising that she'd get out soon.

She heard a sudden gasp, and cleared a little patch of condensation on the glass to see what had happened. Oh, the rose petals.

She saw Phoebe grin at her, mouth "I love you", and start to approach her, removing clothing as she did so. She watched as she stepped into the shower in front of her, and watched the water cascade over her body, considering for the millionth time how beautiful she was. And how wet really was a good look. And how they were about to have some fun.

And she grinned. "Hey Pheebs."

Okay, so maybe it hadn't _always_ been that way.


End file.
